


Last of the Shadowscales

by ofwyrmsandguns



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Attempted Roofie, Breaking and Entering, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Death, Gen, Kidnapping, Murder, death by fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-04 11:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21196613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofwyrmsandguns/pseuds/ofwyrmsandguns
Summary: The Falkreath branch of the Dark Brotherhood has been hearing rumours that, following the dissolution of the Shadowscales, one of the assassins has relocated to Skyrim. They want him, and Astrid has to go convince him to join. Unfortunately for her, he's much better trained and experienced at this than she is.





	1. Chapter 1

Windhelm was as cold as Astrid remembered, both in temperature and in temperment. She got glances of unease as a stranger in the Snow Quarter, and glances of unease as a nord in the Grey Corner. Even wrapped up as warm as she was, she couldn't hide her entire face so discretely.

But a hot lead had lead her to follow an Argonian halfway across Skyrim to the New Gnisis Corner Club. He was decidedly more plain than she'd imagined, but looks could be decieving. If the rumours were true, it might very well be on purpose too. Now she stood mere emtres away from Veezara, a mercenary usually found leading rich and self-important people through areas too tough for most other mercenaries to handle. Whether he was as miserable as she thought or she was just bad at reading Argonians, she couldn't tell. But if their investigations and deductions were right, if he really was a Shadowscale, or if he could at least give them a further chance to track down the supposed boogeyman, Astrid had to take the chance.

She took her hood off, a risk to be sure but a necessary one, and headed into the bar. The Dunmer behind it squinted at her in puzzlement, but said nothing. A few heads turned to watch as she walked in, possibly expecting trouble, but Veezara didn't seem to notice. He was sat in prime position, directly on the route between the door and the bar having a very loud, animated discussion with another Argonian in Jel. His tankard was near the edge of his table too. Oh if he was a Shadowscale, surely he was a poor one. So many rookie errors. Astrid made her way up to the bar.

“Excuse me.” She asked sweetly. The dunmer raised an eyebrow at her. “Has a Nord lad come in tonight? My brother has gone off on another bender and we can's find him.”

“You're the first human to come in here in about 3 months, Sera. I'm afraid you're out of luck.” The bartender answered.

“Damn that boy.” Astrid cursed under her breath at the fictional brother. “Well, thank you anyway.”

She turned to leave, the bottle of sleeping potion now unscrewed and held hidden in her sleeve. Babette had said just a few drops would knock the argonian out, then all Astrid had to do was pick him up later. She carefully and discretely hovered her hand over the tankard.

Which was suddenly knocked all over her by a clueless Veezara.

Astrid quickly corked the potion again but Veezara was already on his feet, trying to pat her dry with some cloth. “My most sincere apologies”. He said quickly. “I really should watch where I put my hands.” It came out as a laugh, the other drinkers quickly turning back to their own tankards. Astrid felt the edge of a blade, hidden beneath the cloth, poking into her belly as Veezara pulled the potion bottle out of her sleeve, sneaking it into his own pocket. “I feel awful, why don't I walk you home? It can be dangerous out there at night.” The knife dug in a little deeper.

“What a kind offer.” Astrid said, trying hard not to grit her teeth. This was not how this was meant to go. The argonian that Veezara had been talking to made to stand up as well.

“Don't fret, Scouts. This won't take long.” Veezara assured him, faking a yawn. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Astrid took the lead as they walked outside, but as soon as the door shut behind them Veezara looped his arm around hers. Before she could react, he'd taken the Blade of Woe, storing it beneath his own cloak. His looped arm reach back around to hold the hilt of his own sword which he flashed wordlessly at Astrid before taking the lead. Disarmed and held tight, she had no choice but to abide.

They got strange looks as they walked through Windhelm, even a few jeers from some of the Nords, but Veezara only played up to it, while Astrid tried to hide her face, fearing word getting back to Arnbjorn about this. Once there was no one in sight, Veezara pulled out the potion he'd stolen from her, giving it a quick sniff.

“Well well, sleeping potion, if I'm not mistaken. What where you planning to do with this?” He asked, although his tone said he'd already guessed.

They continued in silence until they'd left the city completely, where upon Vezzara steered Astrid towards a copse of trees. Here it was too dark to see each other's faces, and too far away to shout for help. Veezara switched hands to keep a hold of his sword before letting Astrid go, making sure she couldn't just arm herself with his sword.

Veezara instead pulled out her blade, examining it curiously while Astrid waited for him to speak. “You followed me here all the way from Whiterun. Don't try to deny it, I realised the second we left. You tried to slip sleeping potion into my ale, and you didn't struggle when I, a brutal mercenary, took you away from the city at knifepoint in the dead of the night. You are most curious, my dear.”

“I wanted to have a private word with you.” Astrid said calmly.

“Well there were easier ways than this. You could've hired me and asked me then, or better yet, just walked up to me and started a conversation.” Veezara pointed out. His mouth opened in an impression of a toothy grin. “No, you wanted the upper hand when we talked, hence the potion. But that's not really my style.”

He took another look at the Blade of Woe, twirled it a few times through the air. “What a perculiar knife. It feels familiar.” He held it out to her. Astrid hesitated. “Don't be shy, I'm interested in what you have to say. What's so important that you had to go to such lengths as this?”

She took the blade, holding it at the ready in case Veezara tried anything. Instead he leaned against a tree. “Well? Go on. Although, I understand if you need to take a moment to collect yourself. Being kidnapped was probably not in your plan.” Veezara said, a small laughing taunt in his voice.

He better hope he was a Shadowscale, or she was going to kill him for that. Although, she had to admit, it had to take guts and gusto to so confidently and flawlessly pull off a counter plan to hers, and Shadwoscale or not, he could make a good addition to the family. For now, she straightened up, going for her normal soft, if not unsettling tone.

“I'm sure you've heard the rumours whispered around Skyrim. About a certain, shall we say class, or Argonian being here.” Astrid started.

“You mean a Shadowscale?” Veezara asked offhandedly. Then in a moment of realisation he continued. “Wait. You don't think I'm a Shadowscale, do you? They're just a legend. A horror story to make hatchlings behave.”

“What sort of horror story would that be then?” Astrid asked.

“Hmmph. 'Behave or we'll hand you over to the Brotherhood. They take naughty children and teach them to kill, to become Shadowscales. Only little hatchlings would ever fall for that nonesense.” Veezara waved it off.

“Is that so? What a shame. If what I hear of them is true, they're brilliant assassins, trained from birth to kill more effectively than a knife to the heart. To move more silently than the night itself. To meet one would be life-changing.” Astrid laid it on thick, hoping to get a reaction from Veezara, but still he stood stock still. Maybe they should have sent Babette, at least she'd actually met a Shadowscale before.

“Or life ending.” He agreed. “But like I said. They're a myth. Nothing more.”

“Not according to my source. Well, to be more accurate, they are a myth now. They were disbanded not so long ago, and with the Brotherhood in such turmoil they were left to their own devices. But with such a narrow and pointed range of immense skill, it must've been quite difficult for them to settle into a 'normal' life.”

Veezara remained silent, the shadowed outline of his face telling Astrid he was still staring at her, but nothing more.

“I've heard about you Veezara. You're brutal. All the shipments and people you guard get to their destination in one piece, but nothing else does. Families won't hire you for your lack of mercy, or care for what little eyes see. You sneak attack bears on the road for amusement, and chase down fleeing bandits until they all lay dead.”

“They could come back.” Veezara said dumbly, turning away.

“And yet, you hate it. You look so miserable taking your clients from place to place. Those long stretched of roads with only boring settlements at either end of them. I didn't just follow you, I was watching, you know. The only time there is light in your eyes is when there is someone to drive your sword through.”

“Get to the point.”

“Here's what I think.” Astrid moved closer to Veezara, slowly circling him and the tree. “I think it's beneath you. You were trained so hard for so much better. Your sword was forged to serve Sithis, as were you, and yet, lords pay you gold to keep wolves from their jewels. That can't be your purpose in life, to sit for days in a lonely tavern, hoping you can whet your blade with sentient blood this time.”

When Astrid finished they stood in silence for a long time. Eventually she pulled out a bag of gold and threw it at Veezara's feet. He watched it land, but didn't move to pick it up.

“I have a job for you.” Astrid said plainly. “My family has a... problem, with a Redguard noble just outside of Whiterun. In Wintersand Manor. We'd be very grateful if you could make the problem disappear.”

“What's stopping me from going to the guards to sell out the Brotherhood?” Veezara asked. “Don't think I haven't figured out who you are, assassin.”

“Your own curiosity? Your own code? Your desire to return to your former glory?” Astrid offered. “There's 250 gold in that bag if those aren't enough. You'll get 500 more when the job's done. But that coin bag is yours either way.”

“750 gold to kill one person? There's something you're not telling me.”

“Very astute. He has bodyguards. 4 of them, all very tough. We haven't been able to lay a finger on him because of them. Do with them as you please. However,” Astrid gave a short, dramatic pause. “If you could draw out the lord's death for as long as possible, you will get a bonus. Do we have a deal?”

“350 up front. Then yes.” Veezara answered quickly. Astrid chuckled, pulling out another, smaller bag she'd prepared before.

“I'm sure you won't let us down, Veezara.”

They parted soon after, neither returning to Windhelm that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure when this is set, but Astrid is not the leader of the sanctuary yet. This also isn't her first attempt at recruiting new members in her favourite way, but she's still a little inexperienced, while Veezara, being trained his entire life in this, has both the upper hand and more confidence in his plan than she does. He is a little smarmy, but then again, he is pretending to be a mercenary, and he can't give the game away that easily, even if everyone involved already knows what he is. Including you, the reader and me, the writer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veezara hopes his skills haven't rusted in his time away from the Shadowscales.

It took only a day of travel to return to Whiterun. Veezara barely ran into any trouble; he carried himself differently, and no-one dared tangle with him. His plan had worked beautifully; he'd finally garnered the attention of the Dark Brotherhood. Everything was finally going his way.

That woman had been right about everything. Despite his best efforts to blend in with the 'normal life' of those around him, he supposed he must still stick out to anyone with the Brotherhood's knowledge of the Shadowscales. He wasn't complaining, he could never get used to this boring yet overly complex life of those who didn't serve Sithis.

Wintersand Manor overlooked Chillfurrow farm, just outside of Whiterun city as promised. The master of the house had separated from his wife, leaving her with nothing but their son Nazeem. No doubt she was the client, wanting him to suffer for his heartless actions. Or perhaps it was one of his many business partners, finally having had enough of being undercut in every deal, sick of his slander and insults. Or even just one of the locals, who never had a kind word to say of the lord of the house, but none of that mattered to Veezara.

It was mid-morning when he arrived at the Manor, only to find he wasn't alone. Two children sat beneath the fence, whispering conspiratorially to each other. Veezara snuck beside them.

“Well, here's two trouble makers if I've ever seen them.” He whispered, earning a muffled shriek from the nearer of the two; a redguard boy and a nord girl.

“We're not doing anything.” The girl insisted. The boy quickly agreed.

“Oh, is that so? How boring.” Veezara moaned. “Why, when I was your age I remember I would cause so much mischief, it would drive my parents spare.” It was only a half lie, if you could swap parents with teachers, spare with pride and defined contract killing as 'mischief'. “I hear that the man who lives here is quite the humbug.”

“Yeah! We want to teach him a lesson!” The boy exclaimed, but was shushed by the girl. “I mean, no. We're not planning anything.”

Veezara rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the two could make a good distraction with a little push. He looked at the house as reminiscently as he could manage. “I remember our favourite prank. You would throw eggs at the house and cover it with yolk. It took hours to clean, and the smell didn't half stick around. Ah, to be young. Do you reckon his farm has chickens?”

“Yeah, they're in the barn over there. Why?” The girl asked. Veezara quietly mused for a second.

“I bet, if someone were to sneak back tonight and take those eggs, they could pelt his house before anyone realised what was going on.”

With a contented sigh Veezara stood up, brushing the dust off of his clothes. “Don't get into too much trouble kids.”

As he walked away he could feel the gears turning in their minds.

//////////////////////////////

Veezara was good at waiting, and he waited in the shadows for nightfall, then waited once more for the children to arrive. He hadn't readied anything at all; no weapons, no tools, not even armour even if he carried the latter with him as a memento. The woman had said the task was difficult, but he wanted more. He'd enter the house and carry out the killings with nothing but what he found in the house and grounds. Indeed, all he had was a rock he'd picked up to smash a window. He'd be too indecisive on what weapon to use anyway.

The distinct sound of eggs hitting stone reached his ears, accompanied by the giggle of children, telling him his time had come. He took the opportunity to climb the outcroppings of the house to the first floor, perched like a shadow on the windowsill until he heard the angry yells of the guards trying to chase off the kids. He smashed the window in all of the commotion, the noise hidden under the yells.

He found himself in a study, dusty and covered in mildew, rotting at the edges. He dropped the rock among the glass shards and did a cursory sweep for weapons, finding nothing useful. He silently cursed, making his way to the door to listen for noises, hearing the trudge of boots and angry voices telling him that the guards had returned. 2 of them anyway.

Veezara slipped out, checking the rooms as he passed as silent as a shadow. One hailed the other guards sleeping peacefully in their beds, but with no way to dispose of them all he could do was move on. He saw no hints to the targets whereabouts.

The upstairs landing stood overlooking the foyer, showing one guard stood by the door and another by the fireplace. Veezara perked at the sight of it; fireplaces meant fireplace tools, and tools meant pokers.

He grabbed a book off a cabinet and threw it at the hall window, hearing it smash with glee. The fireplace guard loudly cursed, trudging his way up the stairs to investigate. Veezara camouflaged himself in a heartbeat, slipping over the banister and landing as softly as he could on the floor below. He froze as the floorboards creaked beneath him, but the door guard must've written it off as he didn't even turn to look.

Veezara gently but quickly made his way to the fireplace, locating the poker in a flash. Years of use had blunted it but with enough force it would be as good as new. The guard at the door suddenly seemed interested in the rustled fireplace tools, moving closer to investigate. Veezara sidestepped him, pulling out the poker with practised grace, bringing it to the guards skull with an exciting crack. The guard stumbled at the impact, no doubt seeing stars and disorientated by the damage, giving Veezara the opportunity to trip him over. The guard landed face first on the floor and the edge of the poker was pressed at an angle against his ribs. Before he could scream for help, Veezara pushed all his weight into it, breaking the ribs and piercing his heart, the last air rushing out of the guards lungs. The poker was stuck, but one guard was dead. The sight filled Veezara with glee, oh how he'd missed this!

The sound of footsteps on the stairs again forced Veezara into the shadows, quickly looking for his next weapon. He could take the guard's sword, but where was the fun in that?

Instead he opted for the copper pan, turning the heavy pot over in his hands. It was perfect! He waited in a nook near the dead body, watched as the second guard trudged down the stairs, a puzzled look on his face.

“Almost looked like it had been- Julius?” The guard asked, rushing over to his dead colleague. Veezara brought the pan against his head with a satisfying _clonk_, the second guard collapsing immediately. Veezara brought it down again, and again, and again, filling the room with macabre music, painting the floor with blood and brains. The pot could never cook again, but what beauty it had created!

Commotion upstairs told him the two other guards had been awoken, so Veezara slipped into the shadows once more, letting the new guard stand terrified and confused over the other two while he slipped upstairs. He knocked a side table over on purpose, the guards quickly rushing to the sound, swords drawn.

The first reached the top of the stairs, not seeing Veezara through his camouflage until the Shadowscale had shoved him back down, head over backside over head, his sword following suit until he was left in a moaning pile at the bottom. The next was luckier, getting to the top and swinging his sword at Veezara.

Veezara grabbed the hilt, wrestling the guard for it before a well aimed kick relinquished the guards grip. Veezara discarded it over the banister, instead bringing the guard in for another kick. The guard grabbed Veezara's waist, hoping to push him down but Veezara dug his claws into the guard's eyes, earning a scream mere seconds before Veezara's hands relocated to the guard's throat, squeezing tight. The guard lashed out, but quickly fell silent under the practised grip, Veezara easily toppling the unconscious form over to get a better hold against the floor.

After a couple of minutes, when the guard's chest rose no more, Veezara twisted the neck until it snapped, sharp and nostalgic. How long had it been since he'd choked someone to death anyway? Before the Shadowscales were disbanded anyway. He hadn't felt this alive since then either, the sight of the guards life leaving their eyes, the sound of their final breaths, and the thought of returning to like-minded individuals once he was done, to retell what he had done to praise and laughter.

He'd missed his Shadowscale family so much.

The sound of a body dragging itself brought him back to the present. He rushed down the stairs, silent nature now forgotten, to where the guard he'd pushed down was trying to crawl away. There wasn't a need for subtlety now, so Veezara skirted around him, blocking his exit through the front door. The guard froze, staring at Veezara with so much fear and hatred it would make any normal man shiver.

But Veezara wasn't a normal man.

He grabbed the guard by his neck, forced him to stand on his broken leg and stare him in the eyes. The same facsimile of a toothy grin stretched Veezara's face.

“Let's try again, shall we?”

It took another two times of throwing the guard down the stairs for him to die, but Veezara threw a couple more throws in for good measure. Now that the rush had left him (a rush he used to have such good control over but now, just this once, he let it consume him) he realised he hadn't seen any sign of the target. With the guards dead, he could at least look around downstairs properly.

There was the foyer, a drawing room, a dining room and a kitchen down here, but it was the parlour that got him excited. A trap door, hidden beneath a rug. He quickly investigated it...

And found the target asleep in his bed.

///////////////////////

The people of Whiterun thought it was strange, but ultimately not worthy of investigation. Sure, the guards hadn't been seen in days, but that wasn't too unusual. Plus the egg yolk had been cleaned off the walls the next night after they'd appeared. Two windows had been broken but were quickly boarded up. The perpetrators were never caught.

The sounds coming from inside were a little strange, like wood breaking at odd hours of the day. The master of the house must just be renovating.

/////////////////////////

Veezara had stayed in the house for 5 days. He'd moved the guards into the basement with the target; he'd tied the target up with his own rope to stop him moving. It started to stink down there, but at least passer-bys didn't know about the rotting corpses. Every night he went around making sure the house looked lived in while enjoying the spoils himself. A comfy bed with linens too fine for the likes of mercenaries, food suited more towards the King of Black Marsh than a lowly Saxhleel.

He shared none of it with the target, although he did often eat in the basement to the sounds of the target begging for food or release, offering money, jewels, anything for his life.

“There is no need for such things in the Void.” Veezara had taunted. The man's face had fell.

“You're... you're with the Brotherhood?”

“That remains to be seen.”

Veezara took pleasure in stretching out those days, often waiting until the target fell asleep to start his slow desecration once more. The target quickly became very well acquainted with his own kitchen knives. The thick basement walls made sure no-one heard what was going on.

But his ultimate plan required more. He hacked at the wooden furniture with the axe found outside, making enough firewood to cover most of the house. Papers ripped out of books littered the floor between them, especially in the master bedroom.

All the doors and windows to the outside were locked and jammed: no-one was getting in or out in a hurry. The old wooden floors would burn too quick to be reliably extinguished and by the time the brave, fire fighting heroes gained entrance, the target would have suffocated on the smoke, even if they stopped the fire before it reached him. But Veezara wasn't one for chances, and stabbed the target just so that blood loss or infection would get him if the smoke didn't.

One last window remained open in the master bedroom as Veezara blew on the embers to get a spark, only leaving and shutting the window behind him when the wood started spitting.

There was one thing left to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I googled to see if I used facsimile right, and now I'm just more confused. Pretty sure I did. Veezara doesn't make a cope of an ancient manuscript though.
> 
> Have you ever tried to set a fire using wood before? Like not twigs but actual, put this wood in a fireplace and cook a meal setting of a fire? This makes me sound really really bad but I swear it was my job to do this. Hence the one throw away line about the paper from the books; you really aren't gonna get far with the wood alone.
> 
> I always thought it was interesting in the game how Veezara remarks this life is now simple and good in the Brotherhood, and how it now has meaning. How the Shadowscales end up in the Brotherhood has always been a bit confusing for me, it feels like lines contradict each other all the time about it. But I always got the feeling that, since Veezara had been killing since birth, and was killing in the time of the games, somehow he ended up in a position where he had left the Shadowscales and had a gap between then and joining the Brotherhood. Hence this fic. As he's returning to his own job in this fic he's quickly realising just what and how much he missed various aspects of his old job.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veezara needs to collect his payment.

No doubt the Brotherhood would seek him out once word spread, but there was no fun in being hunted. They'd never find him if he didn't want to be found. He'd already proved his skills hadn't rusted.

Many years ago he'd read up on the Skyrim sanctuaries and headed first to Dawnstar. But there were no signs of life around it, the door having almost frozen solid from disuse. No-one had used it in centuries: this wasn't the right place.

So instead he headed to Falkreath, hearing the rumours of Wintersand Manor burning down, the master and all four guards found dead in the basement. It was considered highly suspicious indeed. But the Whiterun guards didn't have a single lead, no-one had seen anyone go in or out in days. Too many people had the motive, no one had the opportunity. Whispers spoke of the Dark Brotherhood's involvement, and such whispers brought a smile to Veezara's face.

He stopped a few miles outside of Falkreath, finally ditching his mercenary gear for his more familiar, more comfortable Shadowscale armour. He avoided the hold capital altogether, instead searching the surrounding forests until he found the Black Door. It was like seeing your own front door after months, even years away. Veezara noticed how homesick he was until he saw it.

So many years ago, back when he was still in early training, one of the much older Shadowscales had taught him the trick to the doors questions, having spent most of her life helping to remove and destroy all traces and secrets left in abandoned sanctuaries. Now it meant Veezara could gain access with ease, and without invite, simply by guessing the answer to the doors question. He knew how rude it was, to enter without invite, and if that woman wasn't here he could find himself in a very deadly situation very quickly, but somehow it felt as if this was what he was meant to do. They couldn't deny his birthright, couldn't discard his claim as a Shadowscale, if he made his way inside without help.

He camouflaged himself as soon as he closed the door behind him, walked through the stony corridors silently, confidently. Past a master bedroom and into a massive opening, where he spotted the woman from before, dressed in her Brotherhood armour, talking to a small child. Neither had realised that he had entered.

He made his way behind the woman, placing a hand on her shoulder at the same time as his other went to her hilt, announcing himself loudly. “I have come for my payment, my dear.”

The woman stifled a shriek, trying to leap out of Veezara's grasp as he drew her blade again, throwing it to the floor. The child made a leap for him, but he pushed her back with the flat edge of his own sword, before he dropped that too. He raised his hands in mock surrender, unable to hold back his laughter at them. The child's eyes widened as she took in their invader.

“That armour-” She started, but the woman interrupted her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded.

“Just what I said. My payment. You didn't settle on a meeting place for when I completed the job.” Veezara shrugged, as if breaking into her home was a reasonable reaction.

“We would have tracked you down, if you hadn't disappeared.” The woman retorted.

“Like I said before, I don't like having the lower hand.”

“Astrid, that's Shadowscale armour.” The child interrupted. The woman, her name now known as Astrid, smirked. She regained her composure from Veezara's shocking appearance surprisingly quick.

“I thought they were just a myth.” Astrid teased.

“Come now, do you really think I would just admit who I was to anyone that brought it up?” Veezara asked.

“You must've let it slip to someone, how else would we have found you?” Astrid asked, her tone back to that soft but unsettling nature.

“Let it slip? Never. Do you think you would have ever found me, ever heard I was here, if I didn't want you to know? I just wanted to be sure you really were who you said you are, and not just some fancy noble looking for a private hitman.”

“Are you convinced?” Astrid asked.

“Yes. Are you?” Veezara asked back.

“The news has spread quick. The fire was quite an inspired choice.” Astrid remarked. An ember of pride burned in Veezara's chest. “You know, when I said a slow death, I merely meant 'don't slit his throat as he sleeps, let him know he's dying'. To keep him alive for days surrounded by his decaying guards was simply brilliant.”

Veezara couldn't hide the pride in his voice. “When it comes to killing, I always aim to please. It's what I was born to do. I haven't felt that alive in months.”

“I can't imagine it.” Astrid said, her voice soft and sympathetic now. “To be raised among us, then cruelly ripped away from your family, forced to live a 'normal' life when killing is your calling.”

Veezara bowed his head. He'd missed it. Every single part of it. Astrid crossed her arms over her chest, stood taller.

“You want your payment, and your bonus, correct?” She asked. Veezara's face shot up, his eyes narrowed. It was now or never.

“There's only one bonus I could ever want. One payment I could ever need.” He announced. He'd subconsciously stood to attention, as if back with the Shadowscales, awaiting his orders. He and Astrid stared into each other's eyes for a long time, before Astrid gave him a genuine, warm smile.

“Babette.” She addressed the child, even though her eyes never left Veezara. “I'd like you to meet Veezara, the last of the Shadowscales. And, more importantly, our newest brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if you liked this work and would like more Elder Scrolls stuff from me, please leave a comment to motivate me! I mostly write Dark Brotherhood related stuff as its my favorite faction, and i have a few more ideas, so do let me know if people would be interested in reading them!


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